Vanessa's New Wheels
by karly05
Summary: Vanessa finally has her own car!  Guess who's getting the first ride.  F/V Fluff and Friendship, and some sweet Ferb crushiness.


**A/N – I wanted to do some F/V "friendship" stuff that would be post-series/pre-romance. This turned out longer than I expected, but sometimes that happens when you're playing with such an inspiring pair. **

**Dan Povenmire and Jeff "Swampy" Marsh own most of the characters.**

Vanessa's New Wheels

"All right!" Phineas exclaimed, looking over their morning's work. "Who's ready for some trampoline volleyfoothoopball?"

"Comin' right up!" Buford growled with a chuckle, grabbing Baljeet by the collar and tossing him up onto the springy surface of the court. The burly boy clambered up as well and declaring, "I've got service!" laid hold of his Frenemy again, launched the both of them up onto one of the small, round trampolines suspended above the court, and spiked the Indian boy over the net.

"Buford!" Baljeet shrieked as he became airborne. "That is not how the rules—OH!" he cringed as he hit the court surface, which sagged under his weight and flung him into the air. "Oh," he remarked now, in a much different tone, a smile forming as he bounced up and down. "This is actually quite enjoyable."

Ferb was already jumping his way from one round platform to another, pausing to take a ball from the bin at courtside. Phineas and Isabella had joined the rest of them by now, as Ferb tossed the ball straight up. He leapt down to court level, then went hurtling skyward, back-flipped in mid-air, and made a perfect overhead kick, sending the ball through the hoop on the far side of the net.

"Whoa, bonus points for style, Ferb!" Phineas exclaimed, as Isabella retrieved the ball and ricocheted off a sequence of platforms before hurling it one-handed through the opposite hoop.

"Gooooooooal!" she cheered, hands in the air.

"Wait," said Baljeet, as Buford brought another ball into play, bouncing under the net and kicking it at the smaller boy's head. Jumping out of the way, Baljeet tried to get someone's attention. "Are we not choosing teams? Should we not discuss the rules first?"

"Oh, we can worry about rules later," Phineas dismissed this, somersaulting up to catch the first ball and passing it over the net to Isabella. "Heads up, Buford!" he kicked the second ball at the other boy, who bounded to block it from going through the hoop.

It was just another summer day in the Flynn-Fletcher back yard. A year had passed since they had built the roller coaster, and the rocket ship, and the Football X-7 stadium, and Ferb felt that he and his brother were just warming up. They still had seventy-two days of this year's summer holiday to go, and the possibilities were limitless. Phineas's idea for a new trampoline sport had been a good one – although Baljeet was probably correct in thinking that it could benefit from a few rules. For now, however, Ferb was content to bounce and tumble and kick a ball around and just generally let off some steam with his brother and their friends.

By this point, they had three balls in play among five people, and the action was getting a bit frantic. Ferb flipped through one of the hoops and knocked a ball away with his head; it went rocketing into the net, rebounded off a trampoline, and arced over the fence into the driveway. Hopping down from the court, Ferb went to recover it. Going out through the gate, he scanned the driveway, and saw that the ball had rolled down to the curb. As he retrieved it, he was vaguely aware of a car turning onto their street, but he was surprised when it honked at him. He hadn't done anything to warrant this; he'd had one foot in the gutter, that was all, and his brow furrowed as he looked toward the driver.

Without warning, Ferb was bowled off his feet – not by the car, but by a sudden storm of flower petals swirling in a pink sky and, in the eye of the storm, behind the wheel of the car, an impossibly lovely girl. The car whipped over to his side of the street and stopped at the foot of the driveway, facing the wrong direction. She already had the driver's window down, and leaned out with her elbow over the door frame.

"Hey, Ferb," Vanessa Doofenshmirtz smiled brightly at him. "What do you think?"

What did he think? Oh, so many things, none of which he could put into words that wouldn't sound brash and presumptuous. Then he realized that she wasn't asking his opinion of her.

"I finally got my car!" she declared proudly, showing it off with a sweep of her hand. "Sweet, huh? Hop in!" she beckoned to him. "I'll give you a ride."

Clearly, the ball had smacked into his head a bit harder than he had realized. Or else, the girl of his dreams really had just invited him for a spin. Holding up a finger, he managed to say, "Wait here." He sprinted back through the gate and tossed the ball on the ground. The others were still on the trampoline court and didn't seem to have missed him. He found his sketchbook where he had left it on the grass, ripped the corner from a page, and wrote a hasty note – Gone Out. Back Soon. F. – which he stuck on the inside of the gate as he left. Amazingly, he found Vanessa still parked in front of their drive.

"Ready?" she asked as he approached, and he nodded. Jogging around the front of the car, he got in and fastened his seatbelt. As they pulled away, she said, "I just got it yesterday. You're my first passenger. Aside from my Dad," she qualified this, "but I'm not counting him. Well," she asked again, "what do you think?"

It wasn't what he would have expected. His image of Vanessa's Perfect Car would have been a sleek, low-slung black convertible, not a light brown compact import sedan. The inside was spotless, and in very good condition, but the upholstery was an outdated burgundy color – not surprising, since the car had to be older than he was. Still, he said politely, "It's very nice."

"It's ugly," she glanced at him with a wry smile. "And in two more years, it'll be old enough for its own driver's licence. But it has really low miles, and it runs like a dream, and it's _mine_." This last fact was obviously enough to override any faults the car might have. "Oh, and it's got a great sound system." She demonstrated by turning up the music that had been playing in the background. A band was vigorously rocking out with an infectious, upbeat sound. Ferb recognized the song at once, and looked at her in surprise. How on earth did she know…?

She caught his look and said, raising her voice over the music, "Cracking Toast. They're this English band, they're really good. I never thought I'd go for the 'happy' stuff, I was always more of a Scraping Fangs kind of girl, but these guys are a blast!"

"Yes," said Ferb. "Yes, they are."

She obviously caught his meaning, as she said, "You've heard of them?"

"They're one of my favorite bands," he told her. "How did you find them?"

"My chemistry teacher. She's, like, _fifty_, but she's into all this crazy music. You know, the first time she said 'Cracking Toast,' I thought she said Cracking _Toes_," Vanessa admitted. "But I guess toast cracks if you bend it, right?"

Ferb was silent for a minute before he said, a bit hesitantly, "That's not what they mean by 'cracking.'" When she cast him a curious glance, he explained, "It's British slang for excellent."

"Excellent toast? That's kind of weird," Vanessa considered, in an admiring tone, then confessed, "I guess I don't know much about British slang."

Ferb knew where the phrase 'Cracking Toast' had come from, but opted not to launch into that explanation. Instead, he said, "That's all right. I'm still baffled by some of your American colloquialisms."

He saw Vanessa take a peek at him from the corner of her eye and chuckle through a half-suppressed grin. "Sorry," she answered his inquisitive look. "I don't know many people who would use a word like 'colloquialisms' in an actual sentence. In fact, I'd have to say that you're the _only_ one I know."

He wasn't quite sure how to take this, and shifted his gaze to the passing streetscape. "Are we going anywhere in particular?"

"Yes," she replied mysteriously. "Yes, we are." She paused for a minute, as if waiting for him to reply, then said, "I thought we'd go somewhere for a treat. I kind of owe you one. It won't be as awesome as Outer Space," she referred back to last summer's outing, when he had flown her to the Shooting Star Milkshake Bar, "but I think you'll like it."

Ferb wondered where she was headed – then his stomach sank when he saw a familiar sign creeping up on their right. _Oh, heavens, no, not Slushy Dawg._ Ferb knew that the Slushy chains were very popular in Danville, but he wasn't much of a fan. Slushy Dawgs never got any better. The prospect of choking one down was a daunting challenge, but he would suffer through anything, even that, before he would hurt the well-intended feelings of the girl he adored. To his relief, Vanessa passed the Slushy Dawg without slowing, however, and his curiosity was piqued again. Two blocks later, they pulled into the lot of a mini-mall, and parked outside a storefront marked _Pete's Drugs_. When they got out of the car, Ferb hastened to reach the door first so he could hold it open for her. Vanessa smiled and said, "Thanks," as she entered the shop.

Pete's Drugs was small in size, but packed with everything you'd expect, from toothpaste and cough syrup to candy and greeting cards. There was a small, glass display case for cosmetics and perfumes, a large rack of magazines and newspapers from all over, a pharmacy window in the back, and, to the left of the door, an old fashioned soda fountain, with a marble counter and round, red stools. The tall, ample woman behind the counter called out, "Hi, there," as they came in, then said, in a familiar, almost teasing tone, "Well, hi, Sweetie! I haven't seen you since yesterday."

"Hi, Audrey," Vanessa returned the greeting. "I brought a friend this time."

"Hey there, Sugar," Audrey beamed at Ferb, "have a seat. What can I get you?"

Ferb and Vanessa claimed a pair of stools, and Ferb deferred to his companion to order first. Audrey read his look and said, "Oh, I already know what the Chocoholic wants. How about you? We have shakes, sundaes, floats, cones…"

"Audrey makes the best shakes on earth," Vanessa informed him, with a wink. "I don't know if she has cherry fizz, but…"

"Oh, there's nothing I don't have," Audrey laughed. "You just tell me what you like," she said to Ferb.

He considered for a moment, then said, "May I have a cherry cola float with vanilla ice cream?"

"Coming right up," she nodded. She had already started on Vanessa's chocolate milkshake, and was now scooping vanilla ice cream into a tall soda glass. As she worked, Audrey spoke to an elderly woman who sat several stools down from them, a crossword puzzle and a coffee cup in front of her. "Peggy, Hon, you ready for a refill?"

"So," Ferb took the opportunity to address Vanessa, "how did you finally acquire your wheels?"

"It's kind of funny," she answered him. "I should have done this ages ago. Dad just kept arguing with me about it and putting me off, until I finally decided that the only way I was ever going to get a car was to buy it, myself. So, as soon as school was out this year, I went to Uncle Roger and asked him for a job. I've been working part time at City Hall for about a month now. Nothing major, just filing and making copies, mostly, but, hey, it's a paycheck," she smiled.

At this point, Audrey dealt a couple of napkins onto the counter and set their drinks in front of them. "Whistle if I can get you anything else," she offered. They thanked her as she moved to take care of a new customer, and Vanessa picked up her story where she'd left off.

"Well, of course, Dad had a complete meltdown when he found out," she snorted, spooning the whipped cream and chocolate shavings off the top of her shake and into her mouth.

Ferb stirred his foaming drink with a straw and sampled it. Delicious. "Did he not want you working?"

"Not for Uncle Roger," she shook her head, digging into the thick, creamy shake. "Mmm, this is sooo amazing. Want a taste?" she held out the spoon.

It was an offer he couldn't refuse. He felt slightly foolish, but mostly delirious, as he allowed Vanessa to feed him the ice cream. "Mm," he noted, nodding appreciatively. Emboldened by her gesture, he scooted his glass toward her. "Would you like to try mine? It's quite good."

To his delight, she reached out and, holding his straw in her fingertips, sipped at the float. "Mm, yeah." She took another pull at the straw before she let it fall back into the glass. "Oh, wait," she said, as he moved the drink back toward himself. "I think I got lipstick on your straw. Here, we'll get you a new one."

She started to wave for Audrey's attention, but he insisted, "No, no. It's fine." Ferb didn't want a new straw; he wanted the one that had known the sweet touch of her lips.

Vanessa grabbed a napkin. "At least let me wipe it off." As she did so, Ferb decided he could live with this compromise.

"I presume your father and uncle don't get along?" he prompted.

"That's putting it mildly." She resumed her story. "Don't ever mention Uncle Roger to my Dad or he'll give you some long, boring backstory about how his mother always liked Roger best, blah blah blah, kickball, teddy bears, hand-me-up dresses, some painting – he's got a million of them. But… mmmmm…" she started attacking the shake with her straw. "Mmph – anyway, the point is, there was no way Dad was going to stand back and let Uncle Roger get the credit for my having a car, even if all he did was help me get a job, so…" Her spoon clinked against the glass as she scooped up the ice cream and shoveled it in. "Ow, brain freeze!" Vanessa exclaimed, fanning herself pointlessly with her hand. "Better slow down," she giggled slightly, seeming almost intoxicated by the chocolate. She paused for a moment, letting off a couple of deep breaths before she said, "_Anyway_ – Dad decided he should get me a car, since I was _practically an adult_ and all," she grinned. "So, he told me to pick out what I wanted. Within a budget, of course," she admitted.

Ferb nodded. His glass was about two-thirds empty and, fondling the precious straw, he stirred the melting remains of his ice cream into the cherry cola.

"You know," Vanessa said thoughtfully, "if he had asked me a year ago to pick out a car, I would have wanted some sporty little two-seat convertible or something. But, when I actually started looking… Well, I'll be going away to college in another year, and I'm going to need something I can load my stuff into, that gets good gas mileage and won't break down on the highway, so I started doing some research and that's how I ended up with my ugly little Rosewood sedan. That's the official color; it sounds better than it looks. The car gets great ratings on reliability and safety, though," she pointed out, then rolled her eyes. "Listen to me, I even sound like some boring adult."

"Never boring," Ferb assured her, slurping down the last of his drink.

They were both quiet for a bit while Vanessa finished her shake, then she said, "I guess I'd better get you home." She paid their tab and left a tip on the counter. While her back was turned, Ferb took the straw from his glass, quickly dried it with a napkin, and tucked it into his pocket.

Once they were back in the car, with Cracking Toast again pulsing through the stereo speakers, Ferb ventured a question regarding a topic she had brought up earlier. "What are your plans for college?"

"Well, I'm still looking at options, but I'm seriously thinking about Ackerton State. I know it's just a public university, but they have a big campus, and some pretty good programs. I'd be just three hours from home. And the tuition's not _too_ outrageous."

"ASU is actually quite well regarded," Ferb noted. "Their engineering department is considered one of the best in this part of the country."

Vanessa glanced at him in surprise, reaching to turn down the music a bit. "Don't tell me you're already scouting colleges."

"Never too early," he remarked.

"Besides," she added, "I'd expect you to end up at Harvard or MIT or something. Aren't you some sort of genius?"

He blushed slightly when she flashed a smile at him. "No, not really."

"Right." Her tone, and the lingering curve to her lips said she considered this false modesty.

"I'm good at blueprints and building things, and I love to read," Ferb explained. "That hardly classifies me as a genius." Switching the subject back to her, he asked, "So, what course of study would you like to pursue?"

"This is going to sound crazy," she began, "but, I've been thinking… I really enjoyed my chemistry and biology classes last year, and I'd like to do more of that. And, well, everyone's always mistaking my Dad for a pharmacist. It just struck me that it would be sort of ironic if I really was a pharmacist. Everyone would probably mistake me for an Evil Scientist," she cracked, looking amused by this prospect.

"No one would ever mistake you as evil," said Ferb, a bit surprised that she would say such a thing about herself, even jokingly.

"Come on, Ferb. You know I didn't exactly 'rent' that scooter in Paris last summer. And you were there when I ripped that Mary McGuffin doll right out of some little girl's hands. Even my Dad thought _that_ was evil."

"It most certainly was not," he retorted, a bit hotly for him. "It was your doll. Your father purchased it honestly and gave it to you because he cares about you. The only other person with a legitimate claim to it was Candace, and she ultimately gave it up. No rational person would think you owed that doll to some random child with no real emotional connection to it."

They were sitting at a stop light, and Vanessa was now staring at him with a stunned look. He supposed this was probably the longest string of words he had ever put together in her presence. "Whoa, Ferb. It's okay. I tell you what, if I ever end up in court, I want you to defend me."

He met her gaze, and said, with half a smile, and complete sincerity, "You're going to have to do much worse than that if you want to convince me you're evil."

She didn't look away from him until the car behind her honked, and they both turned to see that the traffic light had turned green. Vanessa hit the gas, and they were silent for the last few blocks of the drive. When she pulled up to his house, she said, "Thanks for coming with me."

"Thank you, Vanessa," he replied. "For the ride, and the float." Ferb opened the door, but before he got out, he smiled at her and noted, "I had a _cracking_ time." When she returned his grin, he ventured, "We should do this again some time."

"Yes," said Vanessa, as he stepped out of the car. "Yes, we should."

THE END

**A/N – Cheese and Biscuits for anyone who knows where I got the name "Cracking Toast."**


End file.
